“‘On what charge?’ he answers as cool as a turnip.

“‘On the charge of forging Bank of England notes,’ says the ‘bobby’.

“‘Oh, then the game is up!’ he cries, and with that he pulls off his spectacles, and his wig and whiskers, and there he was, as smart a young fellow as you’d wish to see.

“‘Good-bye, cabby,’ he cried, as they led him off, and that was the last I saw of him, marching along between two of them, and another behind with the bag.”

“And why did he take a cab?” I asked, much interested.

“Well, you see, he had all his plant for making the notes in that bag.  If he were to lock himself up in his lodging several hours a day it would soon set people wondering, to say nothing of the chance of eyes at the window or key-hole.  Again, you see, if he took a house all on his own hook, without servant nor anyone, it would look queer.  So he made up his mind as the best way of working it was to carry it on in a closed cab, and I don’t know that he wasn’t right.  He was known to the police however, and that was how they spotted him.  Drat that van!  It was as near as a touch to my off-wheel.

“Bless you, if I was to tell you all the thieves and burglars, and even murderers, as have been in my growler one time or another, you’d think I’d given the whole Newgate Calendar a lift, though to be sure this young chap as I spoke of was the only one as ever reg’lar set up in business there.  There was one though as I reckon to be worse than all the others put together, if he was what I think him to be.  It’s often laid heavy on my mind that I didn’t have that chap collared before it was too late, for I might have saved some mischief.  It was about ten years ago—­I never was a good hand for dates—­that I picked up a stout-built sailor-sort of fellow, with a reddish moustache, who wanted to be taken down to the docks.  After this chap as I told you of had taken such liberties with the premises I’d had a little bit of a glass slit let in in front here—­the same that your little boy’s flattening his nose against at this moment—­so as I could prevent any such games in the future, and have an idea, whenever I wished, of what was going on inside.  Well, something or another about this sailor fellow made me suspicious of him, and I took a look at what he was after.  He was sitting on the seat, sir, with a big lump o’ coal in his lap, and was a looking at it most attentive.  Now this seemed to me rather a rum start, so I kept on watching of him, for as you’ll see, my window’s not a very large one, and it’s easier to see through it than to be seen.  Well, he pulls a spring or something, and out jumps one of the sides of this bit of coal, and then I saw it was really a hollow box, painted, you see, and made rough so as to look like the other.  I couldn’t make head or tail of it anyhow, and indeed I’d pretty near forgot all about it when there came news of the explosion at Bemerhaven, and people began to talk about coal